Chapter One
The dinner-party at Longbourn was interrupted, and greatly surprised by, the delivery of an Express from London, in Mrs Gardiner’s hand, addressed to Mr Bennet.
Mrs Bennet promptly had a fit of nerves, imagining her brother taken ill, but Mr Bennet quickly reassured her, frowning over the unfolded letter.
“Let the rider go, Hill, there is no need of a reply,” he told Mrs Hill, waiting by the door, and when she had closed the door, he looked around the table until his eye lit upon Elizabeth.
“Mrs Bennet,” he said, still looking at his second daughter, “I pray you prepare for another guest. Our sister Mrs Gardiner will be with us before noon tomorrow. Elizabeth, I will see you in my book-room, once you have finished your meal.”
“Yes, sir,” Lizzy replied, her brow furrowed with confusion, thinking back over her last letter to Mrs Gardiner. What could she have said that might have provoked such a drastic response?
“And myself, Mr Bennet?” Mr Collins gulped down the mouthful he was chomping on and half-rose.
“Why would I need to see you, Mr Collins?” Mr Bennet, risen from his chair and half-way to the door, turned and looked at his cousin.
“Well, if it is an urgent matter concerning my dearest cousin Elizabeth, then it must necessarily concern me as well,” he gave an awkward half-bow and a smirk in Elizabeth’s direction.
She sought not to look at him, and satisfied herself by glaring at Kitty and Lydia, who had immediately started giggling at this pronouncement.
“The matter does not concern Elizabeth, sir. I merely wish to consult with her about it.” Mr Bennet gave Mr Collins a glare. “Should I require your counsel on the matter, rest assured that I will ask for it in due course.” He exited the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Elizabeth found that she had quite lost her appetite.
Ignoring Lydia’s impertinent questions directed at her as to what on earth was going on, she took a last sip of her tea, laid down her napkin and quietly excused herself to attend her father.
She found him in his book-room, staring out into the darkening sky as the rain poured down.
The door had been left open for her, so she slipped in and closed it softly.
“Papa?” she said quietly. “You wished to see me?”
“I am just hoping that you can shed some light on the matter for me, Lizzy, my dear,” he turned about and smiled at her, gesturing to his desk. She saw then that the unfolded letter lay upon it. “Read it, read it, and then perhaps you can explain what your aunt is about.”
Lizzy looked from her cheerfully smiling father to the letter and back again. It could not be an urgent or serious matter, anyway, she reasoned; her father looked as though he expected to be highly diverted. She picked up the letter and moved closer to the candle on the desk to read it.
“Gracechurch-street
Monday 25th November
My Dear Brother Bennet,
First allow me to assure you that all is well here, as I know that will be Fanny’s first fear.
Secondly, I must beg your indulgence and wait upon you all myself at Longbourn tomorrow morning.
I should be with you before Noon, Edward is sending me in his carriage with Mr Jameson and my maid to attend me.
I hope to be with you only a day or two before returning to London.
I cannot set this all out on paper, if I could I should have written a letter, but I can only say that I have received news from Lizzy of a most serious nature, though she cannot possibly know it.
I will explain all when I am with you, but for now please indulge me by ensuring that no member of your family has any contact with the Militia officer Mr Wickham.
Madeline Gardiner.”
Elizabeth read the note through twice, fairly gaping at it. Then she set it down on the desk and looked at her father in confusion.
“I see from your expression that you have no more idea what this means than I do, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet said dryly.
“Your Aunt says herself that you cannot possibly know what news you communicated to her. Something regarding this Mr Wickham? I have heard that name giggled by Lydia and Kitty these last couple of days, but I did not think it had passed your lips?”
“I have met the gentleman, sir.” Lizzy sat down in the seat her father waved her to, and he took his own comfortable chair beside her. “I am sure you did hear me speak of him; were you not there when we talked of Mr Darcy denying him the living?”
“Ah, so that was the man! Well, he must be a Derbyshire man, then; perhaps your Aunt knows something of him that we do not. I will abide by her word, not that it will cost me anything, I suppose, for we do not go out tonight. Tomorrow the rain might clear but no doubt you will all be readying for the ball. I shall merely issue an edict that none may go into Meryton, that any ribbons required will have to be selected from those already in the house, and we shall have no danger of encountering Mr Wickham until after your aunt arrives.”
Elizabeth agreed, trying hard to think of what exactly she had said in her last letter. “Papa,” she said after a moment, “Mr Wickham was not the only new acquaintance I mentioned in my last letter – I also told her of Mr Collins’ visit. And – er – of his attentions to me.”
Mr Bennet, in the process of picking up his book, looked at her over his glasses. “He has not made any, ahem, untoward advances, has he, Lizzy?” he asked in a suddenly serious tone.
“Only unwanted ones, nothing that could breach the bounds of propriety,” Elizabeth said, and her father’s kindly, amused smile encouraged her to say “You would not make me marry him, would you, Papa?”
“I would not permit that bumbling buffoon to marry any one of my daughters for the sake of twenty Longbourns, Lizzy, and most especially not yourself. Do not for a moment consider it. Your mother may be convinced you will all starve in the hedgerows, but I for one have every confidence that I will live to see all of you girls comfortably settled. And be assured that your mother knows very well her situation is not so dire as all that. Her five thousand pounds, to be divided equally among you all upon her demise? The proceeds from the investment of those monies in the Funds have been piling up nicely for quite some years and will be more than enough to see her comfortably settled, should she and her nerves outlive me. Last year your Uncle Philips assisted me in buying two cottages in Hatfield with some of those proceeds; they are tenanted and the rental income is re-invested. Either one of those would provide a good home for her and the rent from the other would ensure her table was never bare. So do not worry about your mother.”
“Does she know about this?” Elizabeth said, her mouth agape.
“Of course she knows!” Mr Bennet snorted.
“But I am afraid that your mother looks upon herself as the foremost hostess of the neighbourhood, being mistress of Longbourn, and losing that prestigious title would be rather offensive. Consequently she seeks to improve the status of us all by marrying you girls off well. Seeing one of you as Mrs Collins would ensure she never had to leave Longbourn, would it not?” He lifted his book again.
“I have no concerns about Mr Collins, my dear, and your Aunt and Uncle know very well that none of you need marry for anything other than affection. Now off with you. And if you can find it in you to tolerate the fool a little better knowing that you most certainly will not be made to marry him, I pray you could keep him in the parlour with you for a while and leave your poor old papa in peace with his book?”
Impulsively, Elizabeth jumped to her feet, stooped and kissed his grizzled cheek. “I shall gladly tolerate him with such knowledge, Papa. Enjoy your book and I shall do my best to ensure that you are left in peace.”
Mr Bennet smiled, watching her leave the room with a spring in her step. He glanced at the letter on the desk, frowned slightly, and then dismissed it from his mind. He would know soon enough what all the to-do was about.
Mrs Bennet at once pressed Elizabeth for answers when she entered the parlour, but she could only shake her head and say that her aunt’s letter had left her none the wiser as to what the urgency might be.
Jane gave her an expressive glance, but Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders minutely in response.
Hugging her father’s assurances close, she tolerated Mr Collins’ officious attentions for the rest of the evening in patient acquiescence, for once pleasing her mother, who smiled and smirked happily at her.
It was almost bed-time when Mrs Bennet started up out of her chair with a look of alarm and dashed, without a word, off to the book-room.
Her daughters looked at each other in bemusement, and even more so when both of their parents came out five minutes later, Mr Bennet with an envelope in hand and a long-suffering expression on his face.
He was heard sending Mr Hill to summon Adams, the groom, and a few minutes later Mrs Bennet re-entered the parlour with a satisfied smile.
“Lord, Mama, what was all that about?” Typically it was Lydia who asked.
“Young ladies need not demand to know all the business of their elders and betters,” Mr Collins said with a sniff, but Mrs Bennet ignored him and answered her youngest daughter.
“Why, the ball tomorrow night, of course, Lydia. We could not have your Aunt Gardiner sitting at home. Adams will ride down to London tonight and ensure that she brings a suitable gown with her.”
“But she has not been invited!” Mary proclaimed at once.
Mrs Bennet dismissed that with a wave of her hand.
“Goodness, that is of no importance. We shall send a note around in the morning. Jane may write to Miss Bingley, advising of my sister’s unexpected arrival.
One more guest among more than a hundred will make no difference, I am sure, and we may use my brother’s carriage to convey us as well as our own. ”
Jane looked a little uncomfortable about the imposition, but agreed. “I hope Adams will be all right in this dreadful weather, riding all the way to London,” she said in her soft voice.
“He has all night to get there, and it is only just above twenty miles to Gracechurch-street,” Elizabeth comforted her. “He need not go above a walk, and I am sure he will wrap up well. Hark! I think the rain might even have stopped.”
They all fell silent, listening, and one by one agreed. Finally, the succession of rain had indeed stopped.
“Hurrah!” cried Lydia. “We can walk into Meryton in the morning, I must have new shoe-roses, and perhaps we will see some of the officers – I did hope that Denny or Wickham might ask me for the first dance…”
“You will not be walking anywhere with this mud,” cried Mrs Bennet, “not a chance! You shall catch your death of cold, and who will dance with you then? No, those shoe-roses Kitty made for you will do very well, and as for the officers, I doubt not that they will all be queuing up to dance with you the moment you step from the carriage, darling lively girl that you are! No, off to bed with all of you now, get your sleep so that you will look bright and fresh for tomorrow.”